This ragtag bunch was evenly matched against the regular army sent to wipe them out. Neither side could be called superior, but if it came to who was worse, there was plenty to compare.
Otherwise, after so many years of suppression, these private armed forces would not still be around, with every chance of continuing to exist.
As they counterattacked, they shouted loudly in Myanmar. Fortunately, Chen Mo had been to Myanmar before, so he could hear their shouts clearly and naturally understood what the enemy was yelling. He simply did not care.
Not only did he have ample ammunition and formidable strength, but his firearms skills at such close range were practically maxed out. He was basically invincible—every time he raised his hand and fired, an enemy was sent away.
A magazine held eight rounds, so his two guns carried sixteen. Without even needing to change magazines, he could wipe out half of their fighting strength. Not to mention, he did not need to reload at all. He only had to keep firing.
His Universe Bag contained plenty of loaded pistols, waiting for him to pull them out in an instant and use them. He could keep shooting until every pistol ran out of ammunition, and only then would he need to change magazines.
Against just over thirty men, this was truly effortless.
As for the enemy trying to surround him, they were dreaming. These fellows were Ordinary Persons, and in the dark night, with only moonlight and no ability to light torches, hitting Chen Mo would depend entirely on luck.
Besides, even if they got extraordinarily lucky and their bullets struck Chen Mo, how could a Cultivation of Immortality practitioner like him be harmed by such tiny bullets? To be safe, he had even used a Vajra Talisman,